Page 85 of The English Bookstore in Bologna

He showed her the goose pimples on his arms, they read like love in braille. “My girl, all grown up. Doing amazing things. I hope you don’t stop writing. Not because I want you to work and all that, but because you have a gift. You might not think so, and there might be haters out there, but your book did something to me. Made me see the world differently. Pumped me with some courage.” Then he added, “I hope I’m not as bad as Peggy’s dad.”

She shook her head. “You are not Peggy’s dad.” At least, she hadn’t planned it that way.

“You know what gave me the courage to go down and ask Sandy to lunch today? Peggy Meh.”

“Get out.”

“‘One Life to Live.’ That chapter. You know how to hit a guy hard. When Peggy finally considers leaving her husband, and you say the thing about how when it’s all said and done and you’re looking back on that one life you had to live, the one gifted miracle chance you had, what will be your regrets? I didn’t want Sandy to be one of them. So I did it and it didn’t work out, but I’ll go home knowing I tried. I left my burn mark.”

Tears filled Bianca’s eyes.

“I was looking at flights. I think I’ll head back Monday.”

Her chest seized up. As much as she had wanted him to leave, she felt the opposite now. “What? Really? Because of her? Fuck Sandy. Don’t leave because of her damage.”

“It’s time. I need to go face my life, figure it out. And let you figure out yours.”

“Queen Bee!” a familiar voice called from down below.

Bianca stood and looked down to the street. Her breath left her when she saw Corrado holding a bouquet of flowers.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“My other job is flower delivery. Someone sent you these.” He gave a wink.

George joined her at the railing. “Who’s this?”

“Hello, sir. It’s Corrado, good to see you again.”

“Ciao.”

Bianca wanted to hurl herself off the balcony. Well, it was good to see Corrado and even better to see him holding flowers, but having her dad witness it was a bit much.

“May I come up?” Corrado called up to them.

“No, I’ll come down.”

He shook his head. “I’d like to say hello to your father.”

George waved him up before Bianca could stop him.

Sandy sat on her favorite chair with Nicolo on her lap. A cup of chamomile tea steaming beside her, she dialed Jack’s number. After his voicemail greeting, she said, “Your birthday’s coming up; been thinking about you a lot. All the time. Nicolo says hi too. Don’t mind me, I’m running my business into the ground and still being awful to everyone. I keep thinking about Lisbon, a chance to start over. It’s been okay, but I’m getting antsy. Might be fun to learn Portuguese, have a new part of the world to explore. I have no idea what I’d do for work. I don’t want to do anything. I’m definitely over the book business. Someone should have told me that the best way to kill your love of reading is to open a bookstore. Maybe similar to how the best way to hate your country is to let your son go to war . . .”

She set down the phone, her heart breaking.

Lifting it back up, she said, “Sorry, that was a low blow. Dammit, I wish things were different—”

A beep sounded, followed by a message from the operator, asking if she was satisfied with her message.

Sandy hung up and called again. “You wouldn’t believe what I did yesterday. Went on what maybe was a date. A nice guy named George. Handsome too. But old, so much older than me. Had a good time, but then he kissed me, and I slapped him. I have your father to thank for that.”

Husband #1’s face projected on a screen in her mind, the likeness to Jack always haunting her. He was out of jail and apparently living in Tulsa, but that was all she knew about him. They’d not spoken since the day the police had cuffed him in the lobby of the Omni in Atlanta.

She stroked Nicolo. “Love always comes with an ending, honey, as you know, and when it does, it takes a piece of you—of your heart—with it.” She let out a brief smile. “I have to protect what little I have left.”

The surge of raw life rushing through her was too much, so she quickly changed the subject. “You might also like to know that Moira is at it again. Trying to bring more customers in. We had our first book club, and people actually showed up. We’ll see how the next one goes. They’re reading Bianca’s book; she’s the daughter of George. Long story. If you’d ever come visit, I could introduce you. For now, have a wonderful birthday wherever you are and know that your mom always and forever loves you.”

While George and Corrado chatted, Bianca uncorked a wine and scrambled to put together a charcuterie board at the counter. She nearly cut her finger off, as she was barely paying attention. Listening to Corrado’s voice, she kept wondering what was going on with him, why hadn’t he responded to her text, what was he doing here? With flowers?